Infrix's Plight
by Chaotyk
Summary: David Infrix, swordmaster and mentat, is just trying to settle peacefully on Caladan. However, his dream of retiring with his spice fortune is distrupted when he's trying to leave Arrakis. Please R&R.
1. Chapter One

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the rights to the _Dune_ series at all. Don't even act as if I do or anything. This is just a fan-fic; I admit the fact that whoever owns the rights to the Dune series (I think that it's Brian Herbert…? Or is it his deceased father, Frank Herbert?) does, in fact, own the rights to the Dune series. And I just thought that I'd let you all know that I'm just using the _Dune_ universe, not any of the characters (save for brief mentions of Muad'Dib. As far as David Infrix goes, I have the rights to him.

The second sentence is pretty deep if you read it without the stuff in parentheses.

Mmmyep.

-----

He noticed them, even if they didn't know it.

David Infrix walked slowly through the streets of Arakeen. All around him, tan buildings were crowded, outside and in, with multitudes of people; merchants selling second-rate wares, pilgrims coming to see the capital of Muad'Dib's planet, streets-side entertainers playing on balisets, and, approximately twelve paces behind him, several assassins, probably hired Tleilaxu or House Ordos mercenaries.

Infrix was a tall, gaunt figure, with jet-black hair and piercing green eyes that seemed to read every emotion when he stared at you. He wore a still suit underneath dark blue robes, which hid a crysknife and a katana kept in two separate sheaths attached to his belt, along with a maula pistol.

Infrix was a sword master, supposedly of the Ginaz 10th level, though he had never truly tested that supposition. He was also a mentat, trained in the ways of logic and human ingenuity. He was, to put it simply, a human computer highly adapted in the arts of killing. And, at the moment, someone apparently wanted him to be quite dead.

He briefly stopped at a merchant's table and glanced at the wares. To any onlooker, he was simply interested in what the wizened old lady was selling there; in reality, he was looking in a mirror that had been set up for people to look at themselves while trying out jewelry. He was watching the assassins approach him from behind. They were steadily drawing closer.

David walked faster, turning right at a three-way intersection up ahead and walking towards the spaceport. He had done what he needed to do on Arrakis, and now that the hired swords were closing in on him, he decided that it was time to leave.

Guild freighters were taking off and landing in a very large number at the Arakeen spaceport, most of the incoming flights harboring pilgrims and the exiting ones laden with the invaluable spice melange. Infrix walked directly up to the ticket line and attempted to get to the front.

"Hey, whatcha' think _your_ doin' there!?"

Infrix turned to look for the source of the outburst, and suddenly wished that he hadn't. A very, very large, heavyset man with bright orange hair, long sideburns, a plaid skirt-looking thing, and a set of bagpipes stood about three people from the front of the line, staring at him with hateful intensity. "I've been waitin' here a good three hours, I have, and I won't have no half-rate, skinny man like yourself come cuttin' every citizen of Maud' Dib just 'cause you're in a hurry!" Infrix had trouble placing his accent, but he had a gut feeling that it was one as old as the legend of Old Earth itself. He decided that the man could easily crush him, and that his fat could absorb thrice as many blade wounds as any normal man, so he attempted to reason with him. "I don't think you understand," Infrix said hastily. "I'm being chased by a group of assassins and I really need to get…"

But the fat man cut him off. "Yeah, you an' everyone else here! Now get to the back of the line!" He waved his bagpipes in Infrix's general direction in a menacing way. With a heavy sigh, Infrix obeyed and made his way to the back of the line. There were at least twelve people in front of him, and there seemed to be trouble with the group of Ixians at the front. Something about not accepting Visa MasterCard.

As he waited, Infrix scanned the crowd around him for any sign of his pursuers. He spotted them within five seconds. They were moving quickly, trying to find where he was. Infrix bowed his head down and tried to avoid being noticed.

One member of the group came to the edge of the crowd, looked around, and suddenly whipped back in the other direction. He quickly gathered his comrades, and they began heading in Infrix's direction.

"Oh crap…." he thought to himself. "They've spotted me…."

"Hey! You there!" the one in the lead called out, obviously yelling at Infrix. "Yeah, you! That's right!" Infrix sighed, turned around. "You owe us some money, _buddy_." What was interesting was that Infrix had never borrowed money from anyone in his life, and definitely didn't owe anyone anything. "You owe us a nice amount of spice, freeloader," the man continued. Infrix got a good look at him. He had buzzed hair, a roughly shaved goatee, and a small scar running down his left cheek. "Now, are you going to pay us back, or what?" The man's two friends stood beside him, tall and muscular, but obviously harboring little or no intelligence whatsoever.

"Oi! Not again!" Infrix turned around; the fat man was back at it. "You three! Quit buggin' the man! Yeah, that's right, I'm talking to you! Stop tryin' to cut him in line and get to the back!" The three men looked at the heavyset, and the one with the scar and the buzz -cut gave a loud laugh. "And what do you think you're going to do about it?"

The fat man turned to the person behind him, politely asked for him to save his spot, and walked over to the assassins. "I'll roll you over and crush you beneath my _belly_, that's what I'll do!" Though Infrix found this quite humorous, the anger and sincerity in the man's voice only frightened the assassins. "I'll eat you and your _bebies_ for breakfast! I'm a big man, and I gots to eat!" At this point, the three assailants were slowly backing away. The lead one was muttering, "Yeah, man, okay. We didn't mean any harm, we just…"

In five minutes it was done. The three mercenaries were sulking at the back of a twenty-person line, the fat man was purchasing his tickets, and Infrix was very close to getting off Arrakis alive.

---

Twenty minutes later, Infrix was making his way to Guild Frieghter 511, bound for Caladan. He planned on purchasing a house on the beach and retiring there to live out the rest of his live in peace and in luxury, due to the large amounts of spice he now had in his bank account.

Infrix had just found Freighter 511 when he heard someone yell his name. He turned and was not surprised to see the group of assassins running up to him, the smaller one in the lead brandishing a short sword. Infrix sighed, placed on foot in front of the other and his hand on the handle of his katana.

"We're here to collect on your bounty!" the lead man said triumphantly as they came within five paces of Infrix. "Or in the local custom, we're here to 'steal your water.'" At this, the man let off a very long, coarse burst of laughter. Apparently he thought the Fremen customs amusing.

At the end of the laughing fit, the man gave a hand signal. His two comrades each pulled their own swords from inside their cloaks.

Infrix moved very fast, pulling his katana out of its sheath and leaping at the lead man in one fluid motion. The assassin leader attempted to dodge, and succeeded only partially, his arm being cut deep. The thug on Infrix's right leapt at him then as he landed, but he sidestepped and stabbed through the man's personal shield and into his ribcage, puncturing a few vital organs. Yanking his katana out of the already dead man, Infrix simultaneously took out his crysknife and stabbed it into the left eye of the other thug rushing to avenge his fallen brethren. That assassin staggered back holding an empty eye socket as the lead assailant came at Infrix again. He parried with his katana and stabbed his crysknife up into the man's lower jaw, cutting up into the brain. The last thug, missing one of his eyes, rushed Infrix again, but was unable to correctly measure the distance to him. He tripped and fell, landing on his dead friend's blade and killing himself accidentally. Infrix calmly reached into his robes, produced a cleaning rag, wiped both blades, and placed them back into their sheaths. He then turned and walked sure-footedly into Guild Freighter 511.


	2. Chapter Two

The Guild Freighter flew up through the atmosphere of Arrakis, encountered some major "turbulence" in orbit (Infrix attributed this to the obviously sadistic pilots wanting to scare those who share a dislike of flying), and finally docked with a Guild Highliner preparing to leave orbit.

Infrix sat comfortably in his small, one-person room in Guild Civilian Transport Freighter 511. The room was simple: a bed with plain white sheets, a footlocker with customizable keypad lock, a desk, and two glowglobes hovering near the ceiling. Infrix had changed into a black tunic with black pants, each lined with green. His katana, stillsuit and other equipment and clothes were all stored inside the footlocker. Looking around, though, he saw one thing that was missing.

Food.

Infrix was incredibly hungry. He wandered out of his room, down the hallways, and into the large center section of the freighter, which served as a very large lobby and cafeteria. The room was a very big circle with red carpeting. Benches, chairs, and tables were strewn about, most of them occupied with other travelers. The far wall was dominated by a long buffet area, which Infrix made for as soon as he walked in.

The line wasn't too long, and he had his food within four minutes. Now he needed a place to sit. Turning around, he looked out over the crowd to find an empty table. He saw one near a corner, and started walking there.

About halfway to his planned destination, Infrix passed by a rich old man sitting at a table with a couple young ladies. They seemed to be flirting with him as be boasted of his accomplishments and large wealth. Infrix looked away in disgust and was going to continue when a thought struck him.

No, it couldn't be.

. . . But it was. Infrix walked up to the table's last remaining seat and set his tray down. He sat down in the only empty chair, looked at the old man, and said, "I didn't expect to find you here."

The old man glanced at the women he was sitting at, gave a small, nervous chuckle, and said, "I can't say that I've ever seen you before, sir, but…."

Infrix cut him off. "Quit playing around, Karv."

The old man put on his most confused face, opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, then sighed. He sent the girls away, then, in a voice of a much younger, more reckless man, said, "Fine. You found me out. Now what the heck are you doing here?"

Infrix laughed. He had been right. The man he was sitting in front of was Karvet Nhi, a rouge Tleilaxu Face Dancer who worked as a thief. Sometimes Karv worked for the highest bidder, but usually he served himself.

"I'm going to Caladan. What are _you_ doing here?"

Karv looked disappointed. "That's none of your business," he pouted. "Why did you have to break that one up? I was doing so well."

"Oh, c'mon, Karv. What were you going to do? Steal their money and go to bed with them? I think I just did them a favor." Infrix started to eat.

"You've been working for the Atreides too long," Karv said accusingly. "You're starting to get their sense of honor."

"I don't work for the Atreides anymore. Paul Muad'Dib paid me well last mission, and now I've been given lordship over a small mansion on Caladan. I'm going to retire, Karv." He paused between bites. "And get out of that old man skin. Your voice doesn't match it; it's starting to bug me."

Karv's face and skin rippled a bit, and then Infrix was looking at a dark-looking man in his thirties. His skin was tanned, his eyes were a dark, brooding brown. Black, ragged hair came two centimeters from hanging over his eyes. A stubble of a beard was growing on his chin.

"That's better," said Infrix between bites of mashed potatoes. "Now, what are you doing here?"

Karv shrugged and gave a mischievous smile. "Oh, nothing, you know… just…. Peacefully traversing the known universe. . . and all . . . Yeah . . ." He coughed nervously under Infrix's inquisitive stare.

"Seriously. What are you doing here?"

"What I've always done."

"Ripping people off?" Infrix asked.

"No, no. . . I'm just liberating a few, you know, _loose_ valuables. . ." Karv coughed again.

Infrix shook his head in disapproval, but an amused smile crossed his face. "Well, at least you haven't killed anyone…"

At that point, a large explosion rocked the vessel. Glowglobes flickered, chairs were knocked over. People screamed and started to run for the exits, for cover, for anything that might protect them from the unseen attacker or allow them escape. In the confusion, Infrix lost sight of Karv.

Then he heard the sounds of combat.

Infrix took another bite of his apple pastry, then started off in the direction of the fighting. He rounded a corner in the hallways of the freighter and came to an intersection filled with bodies and the grunt and clangs of people fighting with bladed weapons. Orange-suited Security forces were being pushed back from the hallway on the right. That hallways was filled with attacking men in black suits and breather masks covering their nose and mouth. Infrix did a double take when he saw the insignia on their right sleeves.

It was a red rhombus outlined with dark gold, with a bull's head imprinted in the middle. It was the symbol of House Harkonnen.

But that house was destroyed! The Harkonnens were dead! Yet there they were, slaughtering the security forces.

One turned and saw the small hawk insignia on the shoulder of his uniform. That Harkonnen troop brandished his long sword and screamed, his voice muffled by the breather mask on his face. "Atreides scum!" With that, the man launched himself at Infrix.

Infrix drew his crysknife, but its blade was small compared to the long sword that the Harkonnen now brandished. And the worst part of all was that Infrix had left his shield in his footlocker.

The Harkonnen soldier attacked Infrix. He moved out of the way and attempted to stab the attacker, but he judged the speed and angle wrong and the blade bounced harmlessly off the personal shield. The soldier swung his sword in a huge arc in Infrix's direction, but Infrix rolled underneath it and stabbed, slower this time, into the Harkonnen's stomach. As he was withdrawing the blade, Infrix swung his leg at the enemy's, knocking him over.

The fighting was beginning to die down here, but the intercom of the ship still blared with warnings of violence and enemy movements in multiple different hallways. As the last Harkonnen fell, Infrix turned and ran in the direction of his room.

When he got there, he pulled out his shield and katana. He locked the footlocker again, and was about to open the door when it opened of it's own accord.

Karv stood in the doorway.

Infrix lifted him up by the collar and slammed him against the wall. "Did you let them in here? Thought that it would be a nice distraction for you to steal some good stuff, eh? Well, I've got a nice crysknife waiting to meet your left eye, you little…"

"No! No! I had no idea that Harkonnen troops raided here It's not my fault!" Karv whimpered.

Infrix dropped Karv. "You said that you didn't know that they raided here. That implies that you know they raided at all. How is it that Harkonnen troops still exist?"

Karv looked at him for a bit, cocked his head, then asked, "You don't know?"

Suddenly it was all clear to Infrix. His mentat awareness had been working even while he talked to Karv. Why were there Harkonnen troops? Simple. Even when you defeat an army, there are still splinters of it left. Those small groups rebel against whatever defeated them originally, in a pathetic attempt to gain power. From this, Infrix came up with two theories: Either a number of Harkonnen troops had, in their defeat, rushed and overtaken a Guild Freighter, and now use it as a pirate ship of sorts, or the Baron Harkonnen had not sent all of his offensive army to Arrakis, and had prepared a smaller raiding force to hold in reserve. After the Baron's death, that raiding party had probably started acting on their own accord, but still in the interests of the now-dead House Harkonnen. There was no other plausible way that the Harkonnen troops could have gotten on board a Highliner.

__

This could prove to be annoying, Infrix thought to himself in despair.

"Come on," muttered Infrix, and he half-dragged Karv along with him down the hallway. "He have Harkonnens to kill."


	3. Chapter Three

Forty-eight minutes later, Infrix and Karv stumbled off Freighter 511 and into the winding pathways of the Guild Highliner in which it was docked. Highliners are large, tube-shaped space faring vessels. Though they themselves cannot enter a planet's atmosphere and stay in one piece, Highliners are capable of deploying and carrying a vast array of Frigates, Freighters, and other transports used for in-system travel. Highliners are also the only vessels equipped for interstellar travel.

Highliners, being the size they are, are filled with metal walkways and landing platforms within their cargo area, and anyone not familiar with the ship they are on are liable to get lost. Even Guild personnel hired to monitor and protect the cargo holds carry digital maps with them everywhere they go, which shows them the layout of the ship and their current position.

The walkways themselves are simply large, thick metal plates that were welded and linked together. If one were to look over the edge of the walkway, he or she would see a maze of such other walkways beneath them, all on different levels, but all connecting to each other. The same view would be available if one looked upwards, but then one could only see the bottom of the walkways, not what is on top of them.

For gravitational purposes, the whole cargo area rotates constantly. While in normal conditions this might make the passengers sick, the void of space allows such a play on physics allowable. Thus, though the cargo hold is spinning profusely, it is almost impossible to tell when one inside the cargo hold. The only difference is that the gravity inside the hold itself is sustained at a mere half a G, making everything weigh half as much as it really does.

The cargo hold is very dark inside, illuminated only by lights every half a meter on the edges of the walkways, and the spare glowglobes that light the docking areas. This lack of lighting gives the interior of the docking area/cargo hold an almost twilight look.

Infrix and Karv were off their freighter and heading to the walkway leading from their docking area when they spotted a small patrol of Harkonnens. Infrix shoved Karv to the ground behind three barrels while he hid himself behind a stack of crates.

Peering around, Infrix got a good look at the Harkonnens. There were three of them, and they were close enough so that he could hear them well enough to make out their conversation. The enemy soldiers simply stood in a tight group, assault rifles hanging limply in their hands, swords tucked away in their sheaths.

Assault rifles! Those were a rarity in any military. With the invention of shields, projectile weapons had become obsolete, as any object moving more than a preset amount of centimeters per second would simply bounce off the shield. Most armies resorted now to close-range combat. Infrix wondered why Harkonnens would equip themselves with ranged weapons.

But again, Infrix's mentat awareness had been working in the background. Almost as soon as he thought about it, an answer came: the Harkonnens were not expecting anyone to have shields. Only the Great Houses and the personally rich could afford them; most civilians didn't own any. It was obvious that the Harkonnens hadn't been expecting any expert mercenaries or Great House soldiers to be on this freighter. This also hinted at something else: the Harkonnen raiders were used to not having any resistance when they attacked these vessels. This meant that, for all their past raids, they didn't really have a enemy to contend with; they were just slaughtering innocents and stealing valuables.

The thought immediately enraged Infrix, though his mentat calm kept him thinking clearly.

Infrix looked at Karv; he had no personal shield either, but Infix caught sight of something else on the other man's belt. It was a small, square, swamp-green box with a keypad on the top. A personal cloaking device. Karv obviously relied more on stealth than force. Infrix decided to keep the fact that Karv owned one close in mind.

Slowly, Infrix reached down and pulled out his katana. He then stood, activated his shield, and started walking towards the Harkonnens.

They didn't notice him at first, but when he was within twenty paces, one spotted him. Obviously, they didn't notice his personal shield, because they immediately opened fire with their assault rifles. Infrix almost laughed when the bullets bounced and pinged off of his shield.

He was ten paces away now. Three sharp _clicks_ told of three empty clips. As the Harkonnen soldiers reached frantically dropped their weapons and started reaching for their blades, Infrix suddenly dashed forward and stabbed one of them through the stomach. He fell with a loud wail which was muffled by his face mask.

The other two had their blades out and were preparing to attack Infrix. He dodged the first swing, moving slightly to the right, and then parried the other one. Unsheathing his crysknife, he made to stab the Harkonnen whose blade he had just parried, but the other one slashed again and Infrix had to deflect the blow with his crysknife. He then angled the tip of his katana and, with a flick of the wrist, disarmed the Harkonnen directly in front of him. That soldier jumped back. Though Infrix made a move towards him, the other raider stabbed at him. Infrix leaped back, then threw his crysknife at the standing Harkonnen. The knife lodged itself neatly in his throat, and he fell backwards, gargling up blood. The remaining solider had picked up both his and his fallen comrade's blade, and held one in each hand, battle ready. Infrix had his single katana in front of him, blade tipped slightly forward.

The Harkonnen lunged, a whirlwind of blades. Infrix, standing his ground in a somewhat calm fashion, simply parried each blow, finally stabbing through the blades and into the Harkonnen's chest. The raider fell and did not move again.

Infrix wiped his katana with the cleaning rag he kept in his pocket, retrieved his crysknife, and then sheathed both blades. He was leaning down to inspect the Harkonnen rifle, seeing as how none of them carried shields, when he became area of someone behind him. He started to turn, but he knew it was too late. As he came around, he saw the point of a short sword coming right at his neck. Infrix steeled himself for death, but suddenly the blade was suddenly deflected. Another short sword hung in the air near Infrix, apparently supported by nothing. The hanging blade suddenly launched itself at the Harkonnen, catching him in his throat and causing blood to gush out. The Harkonnen staggered backwards, hand clutching the blade now lodged in his neck. He then tripped backwards on one of his dead friends and fell over the side of the walkway. There was a few seconds of silence, then a wet thud echoed through the docking area.

Infrix laughed. Karv wasn't such a coward after all. Slowly, he materialized in the air about a meter and a half away from Infrix, and was almost immediately searching the Harkonnens for anything of use or value. Infrix himself bent down and picked up a Harkonnen assault rifle and two clips.

When both of them were satisfied with the wares they had pilfered from the corpses, Infrix turned to Karv. "Uh. . . thanks for that one. I didn't expect you to actually risk yourself for . . ."

Karv gave a sly smile. "Those were just rank-and-file troops. It's not as if I couldn't handle them. Besides, I was invisible. Kind of hard to kill a ghost, eh?" Infrix found himself agreeing.

Karv sighed looked around. "Okay… where to now?"

And then Guild Civilian Transport Freighter, designation 511, exploded in a blazing fireball of death.

Flaming pieces of twisted metal rained from above. Karv pulled up the hood on his black cloak as both of them started running away from the docking area. When the flaming chunks of metal doom stopped falling, both of them paused to turn and look back.

The whole docking platform had been blown in half. Pieces of scorched steel hung limply by fused wires and bent pipes off the sides of what was left of the now twisted and scorched landing platform. Other than these signs, though, there was nothing left to tell that Freighter 511 had ever existed.

Infrix stood in shock. All those people . . . Killed, just like that. Incinerated. Their lives all ended here. Family, friends. . . Tens of thousands of people would be mourning this loss.

Infrix included.

As he stood there, a tear brushed down his left cheek. He let it fall to the ground. A thought drifted through his mind without provocation.

__

I give the dead the gift of my water.

His hand reached down and gripped the handle of his katana. The Harkonnen raiders would pay dearly for this. A bomb on a civilian vessel! The bastards.

Beside Infrix, Karv stared in disbelief. Though he did not share Infrix's strong sense of morals, he was still shocked by this unexpected event. Hundreds… no! Thousands of people had just been killed, with no reason other than the Harkonnen's blind rage, their pitiful "revenge" upon what was left of House Atreides and their empire. The senseless bloodshed…

They stood in silence for a good minute. Suddenly, Infrix tugged on Karv's sleeve. "Come on," he said emotionlessly. "Time to kill." Karv saw the rage in his eyes and knew that the Harkonnens would regret this, and that the vengeance of the dead would come by Infrix's hand.


	4. Chapter Four

Light-years away, on Giedi Prime, Mikhail Slavik was very, very annoyed. The two Harkonnen guards in front of him were the perfect personification of the Harkonnen military: big, overwhelming, and in no way relying on intelligence.

Slavik was tall, standing at exactly six feet, with dark blonde hair that he kept combed back and sharp, observant blue eyes. He wore a black cloak over a black Harkonnen tunic and pants. He was, or at least, he had been, the Harkonnen's head assassin, their "Angel of Death." He was quitting, though; House Harkonnen, after the loss of its Baron, was slowly dying, and he had no desire to go down with the ship.

Again, he attempted to reason with the guards to let him go. "Let me leave," he said in his surprisingly cultured voice. Not a voice one would expect from the person who was arguably the most talented killer in known space. "I order you to let me leave. I am your Field Commander; I hold rank over both of you several times over. Move out of the way."

The soldier on the left grunted. "Sorry, sir, but you are no longer Field Commander."

Slavik started. "I have not been informed of this," he said slowly. He had been planning on quitting anyway, but that was supposed to happen _after_ he deserted.

The right soldier spoke up in a slow, monotone voice, as if he didn't completely understand all the words he was saying. "As per the Harkonnen Military Bashar's orders, you have been removed from the chain of command pending investigation of alleged traitorous acts during your last contract with House Harkonnen." Slavik silently cursed. Apparently someone had heard him speaking with the Atreides informant, despite all his efforts to thwart such an event.

"So… what's keeping me from leaving, anyway?" he asked the guards. This confused them for a bit.

"Uh… we are," the left one said none too quickly. This made Slavik laugh.

"You think that you two… can…. aheheh…. Stop me?"

The guards looked at each other. "Um… yeah," they said together. Slavik laughed again. "You poor fools."

At this, he flung out his left arm. A metal-fiber rope lashed out of his sleeve and wrapped itself around the right guard's neck. Slavik pulled at an odd angle and broke his neck. The other guard started to pull out his short sword, but Slavik already had his knife out. He quickly and silently slit that soldier's throat, and made his way through the door and onto the old castle's landing pad. Sitting on top of that was a Harkonnen gunship; their version of the ornithopter. This model, while somewhat slower, was more heavily armed and armored. Again, a perfect personification of the Harkonnen military.

Slavik entered the craft and started up the engines. He looked up to see a guard standing in the control tower pressing a button; the shrill wails of the emergency alarms starting screaming all over the Harkonnen Chateau located in a remote sector of Giedi Prime. Armed soldiers began running out of the barracks inside the chateau. Slavik piloted the ship up and away, leaving the part military base, part vacation spot in a state of pandemonium.

Infrix wiped his bloody katana with his cleaning rag as Karv stole money from the dead Harkonnens several feet away. "How many is that now, Karv?"

"Twenty-nine," Karv yelled back as he picked up a large gold coin. "Hey, Dave? What are we going to do after we're done hunting Harkonnens? I mean, we're gonna need to get off of this Highliner."

Infrix nodded to himself, pocketing the rag and sheathing his blade. "We'll get on the next Freighter we come to, let it take us wherever. There wasn't another Freighter on here going to Caladan anyway."

Karv nodded. He got up and walked to where Infrix was standing. "So… which direction do we go in now?"

Infrix nodded. "That way. I think that there's another Freighter over there." It took them ten minutes of walking to reach the Freighter, and every step was done in silence. When they got there, Infrix looked at the markings and insignia on the side.

"Guild Freighter 983… bound for Giedi Prime." He gave a short, dark laugh. "Oh, the irony."

Karv tensed. "Are we, uh, getting on anyway?"

Infrix nodded as he made his way to deployed entrance platform. "Yeah. I'm tired. Very, very tired. Let's just go and then we'll get on another Freighter for Caladan".

They shuffled onto the freighter, hoping to get some rest.


End file.
